Brute! Fool! To have come to her on such an errand. By the time I had recovered myself she had gone. Kneebone's house, the young man hastened to a hotel in the neighbourhood of Covent Garden, where, having procured a horse, he shaped his course towards the west end of the town. Teddy overtook her, a little out of breath, his innocent face flushed, his straw-colored hair disordered. Poor soul! she nearly died when she heard he had robbed his master; and it might have been well if she had done so, for she never afterwards recovered her reason. ‘But then again, possibly not. He forgot for the moment his own self-pity, the egotism of his own passionate love. Always her prayers ended—'And may my beautiful mother guide me!' No. More than this, it would serve to mitigate her own abysmal loneliness to pool it temporarily with his.
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